Areopagitica by John Milton

First published: 1644

Type of work: Essay

The Work

John Milton’s classic defense of freedom of the press and religious liberty is his response to an ordinance of Parliament of June 14, 1643, requiring among other things that all books receive an official censor’s approval prior to publication. Milton sees this act as a renewal of Stuart tyranny and of the Star Chamber decree of 1637, which had also denied freedom of the press. When this decree was abolished in 1640, a flood of political and religious pamphlets had followed, and for three years freedom of the press had prevailed in England. Milton views such intellectual and polemic activity as being healthy for the nation, and he deeply regrets the renewal of state control over printing. In his view, such control reflects the growing tendency of the Presbyterian Parliament to impose uniform religious practices on England and to oppose all political opposition. Milton’s own Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce (1643), which supported more liberal divorce laws, had been printed without permission, and Parliament had sought to discover the author of this unlicensed work. In form, Areopagitica is a classical oration addressed to Parliament although it is not intended for oral delivery. Milton draws the title from a speech of Isocrates to the court of the Areopagus in Athens.

In the long opening section, Milton establishes a favorable view of the author and of the Parliament he is addressing. He characterizes Parliament as a strong defender of liberty that has already restored much lost freedom to the nation. Liberty, he adds, can exist only when complaints can be aired openly and considered wisely. He writes to Parliament equally as a passionate lover of liberty and as an ardent supporter of Parliament; beyond that he writes as a learned scholar representing the learned individuals of England.

The first argument in favor of freedom of the press begins with a long historical survey of this issue. Milton demonstrates that Greece and Rome valued this freedom highly and recognized atheism and libel as the only two reasons for censorship. Under the Christian Roman emperors, moreover, only following transcription were books examined, accepted, or judged heretical. Only with the Council of Trent and the Inquisition, “the most antichristian council and the most tyrannous inquisition that ever inquired,” were books no more “as freely admitted into the world as any other birth.” Milton points out to Parliament that the sources of its legislation are the tyrannical Council of Trent and the forces of tyranny that Parliament itself had once overthrown in the name of liberty.

Those who agree that the source of censorship is bad may still insist that it produces good results. To this contention Milton replies with his second major argument, that moral evil or good is a matter of rational choice and that virtue rests in temperance, in choosing between good and evil. God, Milton argues, left to the individual the exercise of a power of choice so that those who can distinguish between good and evil and who abstain from evil are the true Christians. Real virtue must face trial, must constantly be tested; to prohibit books, therefore, is to prohibit the testing of virtue and the confirming of truth. Censorship denies the efficacy of reason. To know evil through books and to reject it are necessary conditions for human virtue.

Proponents of censorship argue that circulating evil books produces undesirable results, including dissemination of evil thoughts among citizens, unnecessary exposure to temptation, and vain employment of time. Milton answers that all religious disputation would then have to be forbidden, for even the Bible and the church fathers often relate blasphemy, and, he continues, ignorant people are most often led astray not by learned books but by teachers of false doctrine who, even without books, are able to spread their doctrines. Prohibiting books, on the other hand, destroys learning and the ability to dispute evil; in addition, a good person may derive good even from evil while an evil one will be a fool with even the best book. As for unnecessary temptations and vain employment of time, since good people may find false doctrine useful in learning the truth, and bad people cannot be prevented forcibly from acquiring evil knowledge, censorship fails to perform its end.

Thus Milton leads to his third crucial argument, that censorship itself is an impractical gesture because it cannot accomplish its task of removing the sources of evil. Milton admits that Plato allowed censorship, but he adds that Plato also forbade music and dancing. Plato saw how impractical it was to forbid books alone, for to shut one gate against evil and leave open others is a fool’s endeavor.

Another impracticality of censorship arises from the machinery required to carry out such a plan. Many hours would be required to read and approve all works ever published or yet to be published. Such a machinery would necessarily grow to resemble the abhorred Inquisition. Sects may flourish despite such efforts because they may persevere through oral tradition, as Christianity itself once did. Finally, how could the quality of the censor be ensured? Only a learned person should have this job, yet the tedium of reading so many books of little value would soon drive away all qualified individuals, leaving the job open to the base and ignorant. No matter what the quality of the censor, the very nature of the job ensures that only received knowledge, those truths already known and accepted by the age, would be allowed to pass.

Thus Milton passes to his next central argument, that censorship would bring harmful consequences. Censorship would discourage learning and the search for truth, dispossess scholars of respect, and undermine regard for the common people’s ability to judge for themselves.

Milton’s argument concludes with his fourth and most complex point, that licensing publications not only weakens the authority of the truth that England already possesses but also actively hinders the acquisition of new and higher truths. Milton’s travels in Europe had shown him the horrible consequences of the Inquisition’s suppression and given him perspective on the relative freedoms permitted in England, but he sees that licensing in England would merely substitute the abuses of pre-Reformation England for a new tyranny of presbyters. Truth, he feels, must never stagnate; it must be believed and understood, not simply accepted from external authority. Without questioning and examination, doctrine becomes a matter of outward conformity.

Censorship is an obstacle to acquiring new and unknown truths, and although England through its reformation had advanced somewhat, she must not rest content with half measures. England will be able to boast of the light of her truth and present knowledge only by realizing that truth is given in order to pursue new wisdom. England must search “what we know not by what we know.” England’s great outburst of learning signifies that God regards the nation with special favor, indicating God’s readiness to initiate some great new reformation. It would be wrong to use the terms “sect” or “schism” for this fervent search for wisdom that God inspires among England’s people.

Milton believes that it is a good sign to see exercise of rational faculties in the midst of external threats to England’s safety; such practice argues a healthy political body and confidence in the safe government Parliament provides, and it demonstrates the large portion of freedom allotted citizens by Parliament’s mild yoke. Parliament cannot make English citizens less eager for knowledge and wisdom, Milton states, without first destroying their liberty. Of such tyranny Parliament once relieved this nation.

What is more likely to prohibit truth than the prohibition of new ideas? Because truth most often appears suspect to eyes accustomed only to received opinion, complacent disregard for the new frustrates further discovery of truth. Times such as these readily produce false prophets and true. However, it is impossible to know whether they speak wisely unless they are heard. Defending such truth as is now possessed, people may find themselves persecuting new truths.

It does not matter, Milton avers, that false doctrine may exist under such freedom, for “Strong Truth” can conquer all error in “free and open encounter.” If everyone was more charitable, people could tolerate and leave to individual conscience things that are indifferent and not fundamentally at odds with the “unity of Spirit” that truly binds everyone. Imposing strict conformity in matters best left to individual conscience converts truth to base outward conformity.

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